


company, and food and drink

by elizajane



Series: On the Strength of the Evidence [24]
Category: Grantchester (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Consensual Infidelity, F/F, F/M, Found Families, M/M, Meet the Family, Non-Chronological, Picnics, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 08:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9596423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizajane/pseuds/elizajane
Summary: “You’ll be Sidney,” she says, coming over to them. “Dr. Caroline Mackenzie. You may call me Caro.”“Dr. Mackenzie,” Sidney says, gravely, and then, “Caro,” as he takes her outstretched hand and gives it a firm shake.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place immediately after [the private explanation](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8662987) and is followed by [when the lights are soft and low](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7797028).
> 
> Thank you, thank you, to my patient co-authors and betas [Kivrin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivrin/pseuds/Kivrin) and [Crowgirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl), who make sure I do not wander too far astray. All remaining errors and weaknesses are my own.

Cathy props a well-fed and sleepy Davie in the pram and they make their way up the street in the direction of the Cam, Sidney walking his bicycle alongside and Dickens gamboling up and down the pavement, circling back to check on his master at regular intervals.

Roused by the change of scene, Davie talks to himself, to the dog, to the two adults, to passersby as they wend their way down the lanes. Sidney seems lost in his own thoughts, though he greets his parishioners by name as they encounter familiar faces on the walk. Cathy keeps up her usual stream of half-conversation with Davie -- _yes, that’s a robin, look at that robin; look, there’s Mrs. Pratchett from the grocer’s, do you remember Mrs. Pratchett?_ \-- naming and narrating as they go so that he’ll learn the words.

Eventually, they’re out beyond the houses and picking their way across the meadows toward where Caro has moored the  _Natalie_. The path is narrow, uneven, and slightly muddy. She should have just carried Davie, Cathy thinks, although he’s getting heavy for long walks. But Sidney helps her lift the pram over the worst of the mud and eventually they come out onto the bank close to where Caro is instructing the girls on the construction of a proper fire pit.

She has a stove on board, but Caroline still resents the fact that she was not allowed to join the Girl Guides as a child and thus cooks al fresco whenever the opportunity arises.

Dora sees them first and comes running over. “Mummy! We’re making tea _outside_!”

“I can see that,” Cathy says. “We picked a good time to visit, didn’t we?” Davie sees his sisters and babbles to them, rocking forward in his seat in an attempt to get up out of his pram. She gives up pushing it over the grass and pulls her son out of his seat, setting him down on the ground next to Dora, who takes his hand and helps him back toward his other sisters.

Caro stands up from where she has been kneeling by the sandy circle of cleared earth and brushes her hands off on her dungarees.

“You’ll be Sidney,” she says, coming over to them. “Dr. Caroline Mackenzie. You may call me Caro.”

“Dr. Mackenzie,” Sidney says, gravely, and then, “Caro,” as he takes her outstretched hand and gives it a firm shake.

“Won’t you join us for tea,” Caroline says, grave in return. “Darling,” she turns toward Cathy and leans in to give her a kiss on the cheek. It’s as demonstrative as either of them will be with the children in sight; more demonstrative than she would normally be before strangers. Cathy leans into the kiss, feeling Caro’s lips on her cheek and Sidney’s eyes on the two of them.

How strange to know that he _knows_.

“Would you step into the cabin and get the milk from the icebox?” Caroline murmurs to her, as she pulls back -- albeit with a possessive hand laid briefly at curve of Cathy’s waist, -- “And there’s a tin of corned beef and a loaf of bread. I’ll make us sandwiches while the kettle boils.”

* * *

Geordie finds them on the riverbank at half past three.

The sandwiches and tea have long since been polished off and Esme, Dora, and Ivy have drifted away from the adults to play woodland fairies along the hedgerow that edges the right-of-way. The lack of a morning nap having finally caught up with Davie, he had fallen asleep in Cathy’s lap during luncheon, a fist of bread half-eaten clutched to his chest, and been transported to the bed on board the _Natalie_ where he would be heard the moment he awoke.

On a blanket of Mackenzie plaid spread out on the grass beneath the shade of the willows, Caroline and Sidney are engaged in an animated discussion about Niemöller. As they debate religious and political ethics with amicable heat, Cathy dozes in the warmth of the late summer afternoon. It's a luxury to drift on the sound of conversation knowing that the other adults will keep an eye and ear on the children. She’s pillowed her head on Caro’s thigh, enjoying the way Caroline’s long fingers run absently through Cathy's hair as she talks.

“Daddy’s here! Daddy’s here!” Ivy heralds Geordie’s arrival with a shout. Cathy cracks an eye and lifts her head in time to see her husband swing their youngest daughter up into his arms and cross the open grass to where the blanket is spread not far from the remains of the fire.

“Geordie.” Sidney has had to twist around to look over his shoulder in Geordie’s direction, putting up a hand to shield his eyes from the sinking sun. Cathy hears the careful neutrality of his voice. She doesn’t know him well enough to parse whether he’s covering anxiety or pleasure -- or both.

“I was down t’ pub looking for you,” Geordie says, his voice mild. An innocent bystander could be forgiven for assuming the question of Sidney’s presence or absence at the pub was of little importance. All of the adults on the riverbank know better. Cathy pushes herself up on her elbows in time to catch Caro’s sharp look in Sidney’s direction.

Sidney has the grace to look abashed. “I wasn’t sure you’d want --”

“Can’t play backgammon with myself, can I?” Geordie says, gruffly.

“May I offer you a ginger beer, Geordie?” Caroline cuts in, “Not very strong, I’m afraid, but they’ve been chilling in the river these past two hours.” Cathy, feeling Caro’s thigh tense beneath her head in preparation for rising, pushes herself into a sitting position so that Caro is free to stand.

“I never say no to your ginger beer, Caro,” Geordie says, as she does so, giving Evie a final hug before letting her back down to the ground so she can return to the children’s game.

Caro walks down to the edge of the water to retrieve the bottles from inside the canvas bag she keeps for the purpose, tied with a loop of twine and lowered beneath the surface of the Cam. While she does, Cathy glances toward the girls, then squints up at Geordie standing awkwardly with his hands in his pockets.

There’s a moment of silence.

“Geordie--” Sidney begins, just as Cathy opens her mouth to speak -- though she has no idea what one should say in this situation. Geordie looks from Cathy to Sidney and then back to Cathy again as Sidney extends a hand toward Geordie as if to pull him down to the blanket beside him. When Geordie looks toward Cathy, he hesitates.

“Sit down,” Cathy says, into the silence, pushing herself into a sitting position and brushing non-existent grass off the faded print of her skirt.

Geordie looks down at Sidney’s wavering hand, then up as if to check something in Sidney’s expression, and Cathy sees something warm and welcome cross his face. His shoulders ease. _Thank heaven_ , she thinks with the release of a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Geordie pulls his hands out of his pockets and lets himself down beside Sidney, steadying himself for a moment with a palm on Sidney’s shoulder in what she expects is an excuse for contact. He settles cross-legged on the ground between them. Cathy can feel Sidney watching her, warily, for a reaction. She hasn’t felt under this much scrutiny since the early days of her marriage when every touch she and Geordie shared felt like a _decision_.

She smiles at him -- at them both -- in what she hopes is a reassuring way before glancing away toward where Caro is returning up the bank; an effort to give the men their privacy.

“It isn’t whiskey,” Caro says cheerfully, dropping onto the corner of the blanket beside Cathy, “but think of it as a first round.” She crowds into Cathy’s space with a familiarity Cathy suspects is deliberate permission to Geordie and Sidney: _you aren’t among strangers here_. Cathy leans into Caro’s shoulder in silent acknowledgement of the gesture as Caro fumbles a bottle opener from a trouser pocket and pops the crimped caps from each of the four dripping bottles in turn.

“Sláinte,” Cathy says, when Caro hands her one, lifting it in the ghost of a salute to the middle of their queer little circle before she takes the first swallow. The others echo her gesture.

“Was there something you -- needed from me?” Sidney asks, turning back to Geordie after his second swig.

“No, I -- no, not as such,” Geordie says, after a pause. “It was just --” he cuts himself off with another glance toward Cathy and Caro. Almost, Cathy realizes with a start, almost as if he’s seeking _permission_.

She tips her head in Sidney’s direction and raises a querying eyebrow.

Geordie flushes.

“It was just that I expected to see you there,” he mutters to his ginger beer. “And I missed you when you weren’t. There. I thought we might -- have some things. To...to talk about.”

Sidney studies the side of Geordie’s face for a moment, then glances over at Cathy and Caro who are pretending not to watch even though Cathy knows neither her husband or Sidney is fooled. He puts down his beer and clears his throat.

“We might,” he says quietly. “We might at that.” He reaches over with the hand not steadying the bottle and lets it ghost down Geordie’s cheek before sliding it over Geordie’s shoulder to elbow to wrist to clasp the palm against his own, interlacing their fingers firmly together on Geordie’s knee.

Geordie flinches, reflexively, but grips Sidney’s hand tighter when Sidney starts to pull away.  
  
“No, that’s --” he starts, then: “That’s just fine.”

* * *

The shadows and the air off the water is growing chill by the time Cathy says, reluctantly, “We should be getting the girls home to supper and bed.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Cathy sees Caro pull Sidney aside, gesturing toward the _Natalie_ and reaching into her pocket for something small that she presses into Sidney’s hand, catching his wrist before he can pull away and curling his fingers over the item. Sidney looks down at his closed hand with a puzzled frown and Caroline tugs him close to whisper something explanatory in his ear. He glances toward where Cathy and Geordie are packing up the children's things, then flushes and looks away.

Cathy sees Geordie shift under Sidney’s gaze, body turning toward him as if in response to a silent invitation.

He notices her notice and clears his throat, roughly, shrugging his shoulders as if the moment’s of no matter. Cathy knows differently.

“I’ll take the children tonight,” Cathy murmurs, pitching her voice low enough so that the children in question won’t overhear. Not that they’re paying attention to adult conversation -- Esme is directing the other two in completing some sort of circle dance they’re meant to be doing around Davie’s pram. “And I expect Caro will be staying over.”

Geordie looks at her, sharply, “And what makes you think that?”

“She’s just given Sidney the key to the houseboat,” Cathy says, lips curling up in a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Kenneth Graham's [_The Wind in the Willows_](http://www.online-literature.com/grahame/windwillows/1/):
> 
> _"And you really live by the river? What a jolly life!"_
> 
> _"By it and with it and on it and in it," said the Rat. "It's brother and sister to me, and aunts, and company, and food and drink, and (naturally) washing. It's my world, and I don't want any other. What it hasn't got is not worth having, and what it doesn't know is not worth knowing. Lord! the times we've had together! Whether in winter or summer, spring or autumn, it's always got its fun and its excitements._ (Chapter One: The River Bank).


End file.
